The Beast and The Sibyl

by AJ Adams

  The Beast and the Sibyl

  By AJ Adams

  Text Copyright @ 2017 AJ Adams

  All rights reserved

  Kindle Edition

  Final proof edited by Stylus Ink

  Although some of the places mentioned in this book exist, all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Please note this book is for adults only.

  Table of Contents

  About Prydain and Beast

  Chapter One: Bliss

  Chapter Two: Siv

  Chapter Three: Bliss

  Chapter Four: Siv

  Chapter Five: Bliss

  Chapter Six: Siv

  Chapter Seven: Bliss

  Chapter Eight: Siv

  Chapter Nine: Bliss

  Chapter Ten: Siv

  Chapter Eleven: Bliss

  Chapter Twelve: Siv

  Chapter Thirteen: Bliss

  Chapter Fourteen: Siv

  Chapter Fifteen: Bliss

  Chapter Sixteen: Siv

  Chapter Seventeen: Bliss

  Chapter Eighteen: Siv

  Chapter Nineteen: Bliss

  Epilogue: Siv

  Want to stalk me?

  About Prydain and Beast

  The Beast and the Sibyl is set in Prydain, an imaginary place that combines Anglo-Saxon England with Medieval England, the Teutonic Kingdom and the Viking Age. As such, there are fortified cities, Guilds, slaves, lots of different gods, and forests filled with wolves, bears, and possibly elves. To really mess things up, I’ve given the players muskets. Also, everyone in Prydain speaks the same language.

  So when you read this, please suspend your disbelief and enjoy the story for what it is: a fantasy.

  Also, I wrote another Prydain novel, Beast that tells the story of Wynne and Rune. Both Beasts are self-standing novels but if you want to read them in order, Beast comes first, then this one. Fletcher, the other Prydain novel, is set in Caern and is independent of both Beast and The Beast and the Sibyl.

  And in case you’re curious! A note on Beastly language:

  Bikkja is a nag, an old horse, and presumably a sterile one. Fertility was important to the Vikings, so Siv uses it as a nasty slur against women he doesn’t like.

  Bacraut means arsehole.

  Hrafnasueltir is literally a ‘raven-starver’, meaning someone who doesn’t add to the number of corpses on a battlefield. As you might imagine, a Beast would think that man a total waste of space.

  Rassragr is a homosexual, one who is at the receiving end. It was a deadly insult in Viking times and I’ve used it to show how much the Beasts loathe the Prydain.

  Chapter One: Bliss

  He was hogtied and wrapped in a fishing net. Even that wasn’t enough. As they dragged him into the village square, they were beating him.

  “Beast!” Durwyn the thatcher was lashing out with his whip. “Filthy, murdering Beast!”

  “Kill him!” That was Diana, the tanner’s daughter. “Kill the bastard!”

  The entire village was there, gathered for the monthly market, the one where you can buy honey, cakes, and cloth, as well as the daily necessities. Normally I enjoy myself because I sell my medicines and catch up with all the news, but this time I was sickened.

  The villagers’ faces were twisted with hate. As they surged around me, I could feel their rage, dark and deadly, suffocating me. It was like being inside a nightmare.

  “Beat him to death!”

  “Drown him in the sea!”

  “Hang him!”

  They were furious, howling for revenge. It was no wonder because last year the Beasts destroyed Brighthelme, our duke’s stronghold.

  From the official proclamation, we heard the Beasts sailed in under the cover of night and then set fire to the Guild quarter. As the flames swept through the city, the Beasts killed every second man, took the Guildsmen’s daughters as well as carts piled with riches, and then vanished.

  The duke had come racing back from his visit to Caern and found his city in flames. He executed the guards who’d survived for failing in their duty and then made a promise of retribution.

  The Patriarch came to the village and preached a sermon on it. “The Beasts are demons from the darkest hell, but Ullr’s wrath will destroy them!”

  Everyone was all over it, praying extra hard for the god’s vengeance and assuring the Patriarch they would take up arms if need be.

  The Beasts are known to be vicious, there are tales they’re cannibals even, but usually they take hostages and release them in return for ransom. Wergelt, they call it. So when the fires had been put out and the wounded tended, the duke had provided a ship and his own personal troops. The Guild Steward and the Patriarch had gone to the north of Prydain, to a coastal area where the Beasts had camped, and they had tried to get them back.

  It hadn’t worked. With the constant disputes we’ve had in the last ten years, the families couldn’t raise the wergelt. The Guild Steward and the Patriarch had come back without them.

  “The Beasts are heartless,” the duke had proclaimed. “They killed our girls, even though I personally sent them silver.”

  “It’s a tragedy,” the Guild Steward said. “We should pray for their souls. May our lost daughters find their way to Ullr’s glorious halls, where they can serve for eternity.”

  The Patriarch had a different take on it. “They must have sinned!” he announced. “Otherwise the great god Ullr would not have turned his face from them!”

  That’s bloody typical of the old fat gut. The Patriarch hates women, and me particularly. If he could, he’d get rid of me. Luckily, I’ve always outwitted him—which of course makes him hate me even more. Now the villagers had found a Beast, though, he was bound to come running.

  “Kill the Beast!” David, the smith, was practically jumping up and down with fury. “The whoresons murdered my brother!”

  He lashed out, kicking the Beast in the sides. He was wearing boots, hard leather and with soles a half inch thick, yet the Beast gasped but didn’t cry out. I caught a glimpse of savage eyes and bared teeth. This was a brave man, and a proud one.

  “Get him!” Diana was kicking him, too, and I could see some of the little kids joining in. I told myself that the Beasts were fiends, but this was simply sickening. I hate cruelty, and this was turning my stomach.

  So I stepped up, putting myself between the villagers and the Beast. Saga is always at my heel and now she was flanking me, her hackles half up in reaction to the wash of hate flowing around us.

  “Stop!” I put all the power I could into the command. I stood tall and put a hand on Saga’s mane, as if holding her back. It’s my best Lady Freyja pose, reminding everyone that the goddess who embodies love as well as feminine strength favours me. As always, everyone froze.

  I saw the net twitch. The Beast had lifted his head and he was looking at me. He had strange eyes, blue as the sea. They looked straight into mine, devilish and frightening yet shockingly familiar. I’d seen those eyes before. Every day, actually, as I looked in the mirror.

  As he stared at me, I felt the breath still in my throat. The eyes, the sharp nose, and the high slanting cheekbones—they were all mine. His hair was pale as the winter sun whereas mine is white, the colour of
new snow. But there was no doubt about it; I was looking at myself. And by the look in his eyes, he was as surprised as I.

  “He’s a Beast!” David was dying to kick him again. As he touched me, I saw his thoughts. That’s one of the whoresons who killed my cousin! Behind him, I could see pitchforks and spades. They were going to slaughter a helpless man. Time to put my foot down.

  I pitched my voice so it would reach the back of the crowd. “The duke will want to see him!” That got their attention. “If you kill the Beast or injure him so he can’t speak, his lordship will be most displeased!”

  “Shut up, Bliss!” David was feeling murderous. “This is nothing to do with you!”

  But the others were reconsidering. I stood stock-still, looking as imposing as I could. Saga’s presence may have helped, too. I’ve had her since she was a cub, and she’s soft as butter, but she is a wolf.

  I patted Saga’s head so she sat down. It made me look powerful, the woman in charge of the wild, and I took complete advantage. “Lady Freyja always advises counsel before action,” I intoned. “Don’t let anger sweep you into the duke’s displeasure.” I didn’t need to remind them that angry dukes have a tendency to hang people by the score.

  “Beasts are duke’s business,” Durwyn said slowly. He was a soldier with our duke, seeing action in Haven ten years before, so he was level-headed where the others got carried away.

  “See? Durwyn knows too that this is duke’s business.”

  There was some muttering but also nodding.

  “Maybe he’ll give us a reward!” That was Theta, the fowler’s wife, greedy as always.

  “We inform Squire Courtney,” I said firmly, “and he will send a message to the duke.”

  The net twitched again. The Beast had lifted his head, but now his eyes were filled with hate. His rage hit me like a wave, smashing into my mind with a devastating punch.

  Then David bumped into me and I stumbled, touching the Beast.

  I was tumbling in icy waters, unable to breathe, frozen in an instant to the bone. I was paralysed, clawing towards the surface, fighting for my life. There was no fear; just savage satisfaction. I was battling the elements and winning.

  “Out of the way, woman!” The Patriarch pulled at my sleeve, yanking me back into the present. “Ullr be praised! He has answered our prayers!”

  The crowd moved aside respectfully.

  “Patriarch, we’ve caught a Beast! We’re going to ask the squire to send for the duke!” Durwyn said excitedly.

  “No need.” The Patriarch was big with conceit. The darkness that’s always around him was swirling around me, sickening in its venom. “Ullr called me here for a reason!” He’d come for the market because it’s a good time to extort money from traders, but the fat gut never loses an opportunity to equate his own wishes with those of his god. “I will judge!”

  “This is the squire’s business,” I stood tall, looking down my nose at him. “The squire is the duke’s representative. Your domain, sir, is the souls who live in the Vale.”

  The Patriarch’s hatred shone through, but he bit back instantly. “The squire’s gone hunting.”

  That was bad news. Spring hunts take days, and there’s no way of knowing where a scent will lead the party. They might be away for a week.

  “In the squire’s absence, I represent the duke!” The Patriarch was swelling like a bullfrog, only he wasn’t as pretty. Saga was growling. She’d hated him instinctively from the first time she saw him. The priest stepped back prudently, but he was determined to meddle. “I will administer Ullr’s justice! The Beasts destroyed Brighthelme, and now we will have our vengeance!”

  “Kill him!” David yelled.

  “Yes! Kill the Beast!”

  “Hang him!”

  The villagers had lost it. They were aching for violence. Their rage sickened me, making my stomach churn with poison.

  “Hanging is too merciful,” the Patriarch intoned.

  As he shoved me aside, my senses swam. The Beast was tied to the wooden cross, kindling piled around his feet. They had whipped him. Blood was running down his chest and back, his flesh cut to the bone. Only the rope was holding him up.

  The Patriarch, his face twisted with hate, stood in front of him. “Good people of Salvation, today we rid ourselves of the cursed Beast!”

  There was a rush of flame, and then the Beast was screaming as they burned him alive.

  I pulled away, breaking the connection. Horror rushed through me. I had seen the future.

  “Tonight we sit in prayer,” the Patriarch announced. “Glorious Ullr will bring us wise counsel. And tomorrow we will flog the Beast to cleanse him of his sins, and then we will burn him alive!”

  As the villagers roared their approval, I turned and ran.

  Chapter Two: Siv

  “I hate you!” Lizbeth yelled.

  “What is it this time?” I was trying to control my temper, but my hands were itching to thump the spoilt bikkja. “I’ve made us dinner, and I’ve dug over the soil in the garden the way you asked.”

  “It’s not about that!” Lizbeth’s eyes snapped angrily.

  “Then what?”

  “I’m leaving you!”

  “To join the vixens?”

  The women who didn’t want to pair up lived in a cabin set away from us. It was snug enough, but as it turned out, the spoilt daughters of Brighthelme’s richest citizens didn’t get along. They were vicious, completely lacking in self-control, and so we had our hands full stopping them killing each other. No woman in her right mind would join them.

  Lizbeth’s eyes flashed with triumph. “I’m moving in with another man!”

  I wasn’t worried. “Fine, just ask him to settle it with me.”

  Although a woman can leave a man whenever she likes, there are rules. If a brother wants someone else’s mate, he has to ask. It can be a relief to cut the cord if there’s been lots of arguing, but more often than not, the question is settled with a fight.

  Lizbeth’s threat didn’t worry me. I knew that none of my brothers would ever dare face me. I’m the best warrior in our generation. I’ll take on six armed men, no problem. I can kill a bear with my bare hands, too. That’s where I got my nickname, Skull Crusher. Only a damn fool would ever challenge me.

  Lizbeth was tossing her hair, though, and looking smug. “I’m moving in with Bjarke.”

  I couldn’t take it in. “Who?”

  “Bjarke.” She said it defiantly, knowing it was ridiculous. “He’s waiting for me.”

  “That idiot? Odin’s hairy balls! Are you insane?” We Skraeling think of each other as brothers. We’re not necessarily kin, but we are linked by fate. That makes us closer than blood. Even so, I couldn’t help myself. “He hasn’t been in his wits since he went into the mine and that rock hit him in the head.”

  “And he’s still better than you!” Lizbeth snapped.

  That did it. “Then go,” I told her. I said it like I didn’t care, but I was seething. I couldn’t take on Bjarke. He’s been like a child since the accident. I’d kill him in a second, and it would be murder. There was no way I could do that, and the cunning she-wolf knew it.

  Lizbeth marched out, and ten minutes later everyone knew of my humiliation.

  “Siv, don’t take it to heart.” Rune came round, carrying a bottle of lifvatn. Sloshing a generous amount into cups he said, “Everyone’s having problems.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Wynne’s special.”

  Rune was grinning like a bastard. He didn’t mean to, he was just happy, but it got to me.

  “She’s special, all right.” I didn’t like Wynne, and Rune knew it.

  “Look, Siv. Forget Lizbeth. There’s too much that’s gone wrong there. You can’t fix it.”

  I knew it, but it infuriated me. “It looks like I’m fucked and not in a good way.”

  We’d taken Lizbeth and the other women for wergelt after being double-crossed by the Brighthelme Guild. They had
n’t paid—they were broke after we took our revenge—but as we’ve no women of our own, we’d kept the girls. We’d not made them thralls, either. We treated them with generosity.

  There are some who’ll forgive you after a bad start; Rune and Wynne were nauseatingly in love, but Lizbeth was determined to hate me. I’d bent over backwards trying to make her forgive me, but I guess I’m just unlikeable.

  Or maybe it’s because I can’t help but hate the Prydain. I’d like to kill them all; they’re our enemies, and they’ve been so forever. But as I’m the last of my line, I’m hogtied. So much for being able to take on a bear; when you’re the last of a family of famed warriors, the only thing that matters is your legacy. When your name dies, your honour does, too.

  So I was willing to try and live with that cursed bikkja Prydain she-wolf Lizbeth, because it would mean getting sons from her. It practically killed me, as even touching her made me sick with rage and disgust, but I was determined to make a go of it. I talked to her respectfully, worked hard at whatever she wanted, but no matter what I did, Lizbeth was just as determined to keep hating me.

  Now she’d figured out the perfect way to get to me. She’d shown me up as a fool, one so useless that she’d preferred a halfwit. I don’t like to show my feelings, but being shamed like that definitely hurt.

  But I’m a warrior, not a whining girl, so in front of Rune I pretended I didn’t care. “I can buy a girl in Haven.”

  “Why pay? The way the Citizens slaughter each other, there are lots of women looking for a home.” Rune slapped me on the back. “We’ll go trade some silver, and you’ll have your pick.”

  “I want one with big boobs and a big arse,” the complete opposite of Lizbeth’s slim lines. “And who’s humble, obedient and preferably silent.”

  “By Odin’s spear! If there was such a woman, we’d all want her!”

  We drank on it, and I pretended to be okay, but I was still fuming. I’m Siv Olafson, and my family have been warriors for a thousand years. My father was nicknamed Bloodaxe for his prowess on the battlefield, and my grandfather was Olaf the Red, the scourge of east Prydain, who razed Haven city with just twenty men. My name is honoured by all of Thule, feared by all Prydain, and to be insulted by that little bitch from Brighthelme was too much.